


Mo Chridhe

by writtenthroughtime



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: AU canon, F/M, Modern Setting, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From my Tumblr: </p><p>Anon Asks: I LOVE your stories but they all seem to be set in the past! Could you do a story set in the present and not in the past without Frank if you could?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tonight

     The rain pelted against his head as he stood in the town square waiting for her. Saying a quick curse as the water trickled from his scalp down his spine he couldn’t help berating himself, “Brilliant idea, Fraser! Try to impress the lass by wearing a kilt and leather jacket all while freezing your bullocks off. Just brilliant.”  
     Pulling out his mobile careful to shield the screen from the onslaught of rain, Jamie checked his recently missed calls, nothing. Texts, again nothing from Claire. Shifting from foot to foot in almost a hop, Jamie felt the goosebumps raise on all of his extremities as the wind picked up sending an icy spray up his kilt. “Jesus!” He exclaimed vainly trying to keep the soaked woolen fabric down.  
     Thirty seconds since he last looked at his phone, still nothing. Where could she be? Was she standing him up? Nervous queasiness formed in the pit of his stomach as he frantically looked up and down the streets for any trace of Claire or a car she might be passenger in.  
     “Where are you, Sassenach?” Jamie frowned down at his phone, another five seconds passed, still nothing.  
      Tonight was to be their first official date despite having decided to date month prior. Between his round the clock deadlines and her surgical residency time was precious to them and normally was spent curled up at their shared apartment on the outskirts of Charlotte. Jamie smiled thinking of how they met outside a coffee shop six months ago.

  _Of course he had been running late that day. His first day as an Investigate Journalist, and already failing to meet the most basic deadline, arriving to work on time. Jamie recalled one minute running across the street with the paper’s headquarters in sight, the next he was looking down into the strange whisky colored eyes of the most beautiful lass. An iced tea cup’s lid askew to his left, the contents soaking the curly brown hair of the lass beneath him._  
_“Um, would you mind letting me go?” a soft English accented voice lilted up at him._  
_Feeling his neck and face flush red, he let go of the woman and stood, proffering his hand to the lass. “I’m terribly sorry, I was—ah, well, I was no paying mind to where I was goin’.” The lass’s eyes widened at the sound of his accent as she stood._  
_“You’re a Scot!”_  
_“Aye, last I checked and you are English if I ken my accents correct.” She smiled and nodded. “Aye, thought so and both of us use to the cold and mistin’ climates of the United Kingdom fatefully meet in the distant, muggy land of North Carolina.” He scowled then smiled relishing in her resulting laugh._  
_“I’m Claire.” She had said while squeezing the hand she had yet to release._  
_“Pleasure, Claire. Name’s Jamie. I may be running a wee late for work, but it was my fault you are now wearing your tea instead of drinking it. Please let me buy you another?”_  
_He kept hold of her hand hoping she would let him stay with her a moment longer, even if it meant he was taken off print immediately._  
_“You don’t need to bother with it. I have to be going, Frank is waiting on me. Perhaps another time?”_  
_“Oh, sorry lass, I dinna mean to keep you from someone.” His grip slacked but she tightened hers._  
_Laughing she rifled through the bag that was slung across her body retrieving her phone. “Silly man, Frank is a beautiful black curly coated Labrador Retriever. Although since we’ve never met before it was an honest assumption, and I’ll forgive you for making it.” She had winked and handed the mobile to him. “Put your contact information in so I can take you up on that offer of tea, if it still stands?”_  
_He smiled and complied, knowing he would do anything to keep this woman smiling._

     “Jamie! What are you doing out in the rain you fool?” Claire’s voice jolted him to the present.  
     “Waiting for you.” Unable to control the smile on his face he leaned down and kissed her open mouthed, cheeks turned up. “What took you so long, Sassenach. I thought you had mind to stand me up.”  
     Smacking his chest Claire glared mockingly up at him. “The Uber driver got lost claiming he missed the turn-off due to this weather.” Rolling her eyes she grabbed his left arm dragging him across the street and into the coffee shop where they first met. “I didn’t tell you to stand out in this rain!”  
     “Sorry, Sassenach. I couldna help if I had to be where it all began.”  
     “Don’t do it again! Last I need is for Nurse Glenna to page me saying you’ve landed yourself a room for pneumonia.”  
     “Aye, mo nighean donn, I’ll no wait for you in the pissin’ rain again.”  
     “Good. Now, let’s get a cuppa and some biscuits and try to warm you up.”  
     Nodding back at her, he let himself be dragged to the nearest booth before she left to order the tea. While in line she turned back smiling at him in a giddy sort of way and quickly turned back to give the barista their order. He patted the hidden pocket inside his leather jacket, feeling for the small silver and ruby ring he had placed there five and half months ago.  
     “Tonight.” 


	2. Bonnie Prince Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will you being doing more of modern J&C at the coffee shop? I think its great on its own just wondering if you were planning to continue it?  
> Hello Anon! I do indeed plan on several more small chapters for this modern version of Jamie and Claire! I had this piece partially written up the night I posted the first chapter so I hope you enjoy it! For the first time I’m attempting non-linear timelines, so if you all have any suggestions please flood my inbox with them! I love hearing feedback/suggestions from you all!

     The house was quiet…too quiet. With two bairns and one due any day, it wasn’t often the house was devoid of giggles, screams, or the sound of running feet. Frank greeted Jamie as he entered the door, tail wagging and slobber dribbling across the floor.  
     “Where is everyone?” He asked the dog, scratching him behind the ears.  
     Setting his coat, laptop bag and keys on the table, Jamie set out in search of his family. The muted noises of explosions and tires screeching came from the family room TV. Fergus was stretched out on the couch blankly staring at the screen as if in a daze or sleeping with his eyes open.  
     “Fergus.” Jamie shook the boys shoulder and issued a short whistle. “Fergus!”  
     Jerking upright the seven year old boy sprang to his feet, arms flailing screaming, “The panda’s made me do it!”  
     “Pandas?” Jamie muttered to himself shaking his head in amazement. “What did you eat that gave you such dreams, a bhailach?” Fergus shrugged a shoulder and looked down at the couch quizzically.    
     “Da, my eyes hurt.” Jamie threw his head back in a bellowing laugh. Brushing the tears from his eyes he clapped a hand to his adoptive son’s shoulder, “Aye, I bet they do. You were sleepin’ wi’ your eyes open.”  
     “Oh.” Fergus scrunched up his nose causing a wrinkle to crease between his eyes. “Where’s Mam and Faith? Last I remember they were over on that end of the couch reading The Rainbow Fish to Mam’s belly.”  
     “I was hoping you would know where they might be. You can go back to your nap if you like, I’m going to go find your Mam and sister.” He watched with a small smile as Fergus attempted to nod while a long yawn stifled the movements.  
     Jamie searched the entire downstairs without a trace of his very pregnant wife and small daughter. Heading upstairs he could hear faint giggles coming from the playroom. Seated under a blanket fort was Claire and Faith, faith giggling at the small copper colored puppy licking at her face.  
     “Well, well what do we have here? A wee cheetie or is that my darling Faith?”  
     Childish giggles burst forth even louder from Faith, “Da ye are silly! I’m no a cheetie neither is Charlie here! He’s a- a- Mama, what kind of puppy did Grannie Ellen and Grandda Brian say he was?”  
     Faith’s big whiskey colored eyes met her mother’s. “A Cocker Spaniel, darling and he’s only a few months old.”  
     “That’s right! A Cockner Spangle.” Faith said matter of factly nodded, brown curls bouncing. Jamie’s heart skipped a beat looking at his mini-Sassenach growing each day more and more like her mother.  
     A laugh bubbled up from Claire at Faith’s pronunciation of Cocker Spaniel as she tried to stand. Seeing his wife wobble and struggle to stand he bent down and helped her to her feet.  
     “Oof. Not long now I hope.” She said as she placed Jamie’s hand over her enlarged stomach.  
    “This one seems to be pretty active.” Jamie marveled as he felt the child bump and roll within his wife.  
    “A football player no doubt! Your mum thinks it’ll be within the month that this one will be born.”  
     “Aye well, since when has my Mam been wrong?”  
     Claire snorted, “Well, she was wrong about—” Jamie kissed her to silence her next word, he knew she would say— herself.  
     “So my Da and Mam were here today were they?”  
     “They left just a short while ago. Brian had to go pick Murtagh up from the airport.”  
     “Mmm… So they decided to leave their puppy with us?” As he said this Jamie looked over at his daughter still curled up under the fort hugging the dog to her. “It’ll break her heart to give this dog up.” He said nodding to Faith.  
     “Oh, she won’t be giving him up.” Claire murmured into his chest. “Your parents gave him to her and Fergus as a present for when the baby arrives. Their idea of giving them something to hold on to and hopefully not get jealous over the attention this one will need.” She laughed, patting her stomach.  
     Shaking his head in incredulity Jamie laughed out a sigh, “Aye, well let’s hope the wee rascal doesna chew up my shoes like Frank did.”  
     Claire threw back her head in a laugh. “Well Frank was about the same age a Prince Charlie over here when you met him, but if we keep Charlie from getting into the mud room and our bedroom, your shoes will be safe. Besides how much do you want to bet Faith will not let the dog leave her side?”  
     Looking from one brown haired lass to the next, Jamie smiled and pulled his wife closer to him. “Aye, just like Fergus claimed Frank, now wee Faith has her own pet to smother in love.”  
     The pair of them stood watching the glee filled child play with the rambunctious puppy, while their son slept on the couch hand skimming the top of Frank’s dozing head.


	3. The Wee Cheetie

     “No she willna be named something so stupid as Claudel!”  
     “Ye are such an eejit Faith! It’s no a she it’s a he! HE needs a good strong name like Angus or Germain!”  
     “NO! Those names are stupid ye clot heid!”  
     Jamie and Claire looked to each other and quickly made their way into the mud room where Fergus and Faith were standing chest to chest, red faced screaming at each other. Brianna was seated at their feet in only her diaper clutching a muddy, squirming ball to her chest.  
     “What is going on in here?” Claire yelled getting the attention of all three children, the squirming ball darted out of Brianna’s arms causing her eyes to well up and screams ensue. Jamie bent down catching the creature by the scruff of the neck before it made it’s way into the house.  
     “A wee muddy cheetie. Why is there a cat in the house?” Faith and Fergus looked down at the ground and kicked at imaginary rocks while Bree’s screams increased in volume as she flailed her arms reaching for the cat in Jamie’s arms.  
     “Your father asked you two a question. Now answer it.” Claire said sternly as she picked up a muddy, still screaming Bree. “Shhh, sweetheart, shh. It’s alright. See? Daddy has the cat.” Claire rocked and bounced Bree until her screams were snotty hiccups—one muddy hand in her mouth the other reaching out to the cat.  
     “We’re waiting.” Claire said again a little louder causing the older two to jump.  
    “Faith found him in the back yard.”  
     “I dinna find her ye eejit!”  
     “FAITH!” both parents berated. Grumbling Faith looked up at her parents, “Well tha’s what Fergus has been callin’ me all day! But it wasna me that found her, Charlie chased her into my play house.”  
     “Fergus, stop calling your sister an eejit. It’s no nice, Faith dinna be repeating ev’rthing yer brother says. So Charlie chased it into the playhouse outside, why is it now in my house?” Jamie stared down his children trying to hide the laughter that was welling up inside. Seeing Faith and Fergus act the way they were reminded him of himself of Jenny going at each other as bairns.  
     “Da! I couldna leave her out there!” Faith exclaimed as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.  
     “I helped her get the cat inside.” Fergus solemnly volunteered. “That’s when we starting arguing. The cheetie needs a name and Faith’s ideas were all stupid, she wanted a frilly girly name a boy cheetie!”  
     “They were not stupid names! They were beautiful! Mama will agree with me won’t you?” Claire’s own willpower not to laugh was on a swift decline. Trying to keep as straight a face as possible she replied to her daughter.  
     “What names did you want to name the cat, darling?”  
     Faith puffed up with pride, “I wanted to name her Laoghaire, after Mrs. Glenna’s grandbaby, or Sparkles, because I love sparkles mama and we could get her a pretty sparkles necklace!”  
     “See I told you they were stupid! I wanted him to be named Claudel, Angus or Germain! He needs a strong name, not some stupid frilly name!”  
     Jamie leveled a glare at Fergus for saying stupid. “Sorry, Da, I know dinna say ‘stupid.’”  
     “Faith, Fergus, all of your name ideas are good ones, but first don’t you think we need to find out if this cat is a he or she? What if this is someone else’s cat and they’re missing it something terrible. Would you want to keep it just because you found it in the backyard?” Claire crouched down reaching a hand out to her children. Faith eagerly nestled into Claire’s side while Fergus returned to staring at the floor.  
     “Mam?” A soft whisper came from Fergus.  
     “Yes, darling?”  
     “Can we take him to the vet and see if he is someone’s?”  
     “Of course, but first I want you and your sister to clean up the mud room and take baths. You both are absolutely filthy!”  
     “If the cheetie doesna belong to anyone can we keep her?” Claire looked to Jamie at Faith’s request, arching a knowing eyebrow.  
     “Aye, we could.”  
     “Awww.” Both Faith and Fergus groaned knowing their father wasn’t saying yes right away.  
     “What’s the but, Da?”  
     “What if we give the wee cheetie to someone that is lonely and needs a good home?”  
     Both children started bouncing up and down eyes wide and smiles splitting their faces.

     Three hours later, three baths—four, if you include the surprisingly gray kitten—a trip to the vet to discover that the kitten was not chipped and had no known owner, a crazy trip to the local pet shop, the Fraser clan made it to the newly acquired bachelor pad of Murtagh Fraser.  
     The scruffy, kind older man was another grandfather and uncle to the bairns and another father to Jamie and Claire. The look of happiness and shock was evident when Murtagh opened his door seeing all of them waiting for him.  
     “Uncle Murtagh!”  
     “Ah! My wee lass has come for a visit!” Murtagh said as he threw a giggling Faith over his shoulder. “And my other wee lass!” Smiling he bent and kissed Bree’s head causing giggles to be heard from behind her binkie as her small chubby hands made purchase in Murtagh’s beard.  
     “Uncle Murtagh we brought you a surprise!” Fergus exclaimed as he held up the pet carrier containing the terrified gray kitten.  
     “Oh ye did laddie? Well whatever could it be?” Murtagh caught Jamie’s eyes and winked knowing full well of the kitten awaiting him.  
     “Oo! Wait until ye see uncle!” Faith squealed, still upside down on her pseudo-uncle’s shoulder.  
     “Well best not wait, come in! Come in! Show me this surprise, mo chridhe!”  
     Fergus burst threw the door closely followed by his parents and into the living room. Jamie caught Murtagh’s arm and whispered, “Thankyou for doing this. I have all the stuff you’ll need out in the car.”  
     Murtagh nodded and smiled down at Fergus as he released the latch and the small kitten ever so timid explored his new home.  
     Bree squealed in delight seeing the gray cat and reached out for him. “Easy, mo nighean ruiadh.” Jamie soothed the squirming child in his arms.  
     Setting a red faced Faith down, Murtagh scooped up the little cat and read aloud, “Adso Fitzgibbons Fraser.” Murtagh’s eyes were misty as he looked at Jamie, “How did ye ken that’s the name of the cheetie I gave your mother?” Jamie merely lifted a shoulder in a smug shrug.


	4. Just a Monkey

“Murtagh! Good to see you!” Jamie said as he opened the door and ushered his godfather inside.

“Aye, good to see ye too lad. How’s Claire and the bairn?” Murtagh placed a package on the ground as he shed his coat and unlaced his boots. “I brought a little something for them, I hope ye dinna mind?”

“Not at all! Claire and the bairn are doing well, adjusting. Fergus and Faith are having the harder time of it. Mam and Da have been here helping along with Claire’s Uncle Lamb, do ye remember him?” Murtagh nodded and Jamie continued, “Well ye ken Lamb’s an archeologist and couldna stay for long, he’s on his way to someplace Africa now.”

“Are Ellen and Brian here now? I dinna see their car in the drive.”

“Ach, no. Da had to drag Mam out though. They’ve been here for two weeks now helping and the poor lass has only been in the world for three days!”

Murtagh’s weather-beaten face crinkled into a smile, “That sounds like Ellen alright. Stubborn and never one to be far from her kin, especially grandbairns.”

“True. Mam does love her family and wilna be far from them. I think Da just wants to go home for a change.”

“Aye, that he most certainly does.”

Jamie led Murtagh to the nursery where Claire stood over a bassinet and stroked the cheek of the slumbering baby inside, while Frank lay at her feet as protector.

Claire turned at the sound of the men’s feet, a smile wide across her tired face. “Murtagh!”

“Hullo lass. How’s the wee one?”

“She’s finally asleep. This one is a bit different than Faith, she never wants to be left alone. I think Fergus is upset Frank has taken to laying by her wherever she is in the house.”

“Ah, weel that’s hard on the lad but I’m happy to see ye up and moving. I thought for sure ye’d be bedridden.”

“What decade are you living in, Murtagh?”

“I-uh-well-I just mean that—”

“Quit your fussing it’s all right. I’m fine and so is Brianna. Do you want to meet her?”

Murtagh stammered out a yes and clumsily made his way to where the bairn lay. “I brought her something.”

Claire smiled and motioned for him to give it to her. He produced stuffed a monkey from the brightly printed bag. “It’s no much but I thought the lass could use a friend.”

“Thank-you Murtagh.” Claire said as she laid a hand on his arm that held the monkey.

Frank chose that moment to look up at the interaction above him and began to growl. The dog's hackles were raised and a snarl neither Jamie nor Claire had ever heard before bellowed from Frank.

“Seas! Frank! Calm down boy!” Jamie said in an attempt to get the dog to focus on him instead of whatever caused him to become angry.

Before Murtagh had taken a step backwards, Frank lunged grabbing the stuffed monkey by the head. Five violent jerks later the stuffed monkey lay on the floor, tufts of cotton protruding from the body. Frank calmed down and laid back by the bassinet. Murtagh bent to pick up the destroyed monkey when Frank growled again.

“I’m sorry, Murtagh. I dinna ken what has gotten into the beast.”

Murtagh tipped his head back and barked out a laugh. “Oh, it’s fine lad.” Murtagh said wiping away tears. “The pup saw the monkey as a threat and protected his lady. I shoulda guessed something was amiss when I found the damned thing on sale. Maybe it’s a good thing I remembered ye use to love a stuffed bear so I thought to bring one of those as well.” Murtagh grabbed the purple and tan bear from his bag, bent down and held it out to Frank. Frank sniffed the bear curiously then laid his head back on his paws.

“Seems he approves this one more than the last. Claire, if ye reach down in this bag I have a wee gift for ye as well.” Claire did as he said and pulled out a jewelry box. A handcrafted wooden box full of intricate carvings; a Scottish thistle, the Fraser Clan insignia, what she could assume was a depiction of the Highlands and several other little scenes beautifully carved.

“Thankyou. It’s magnificent.”

“Yer welcome lass. I ken I didna give ye a gift when wee Faith was born or when ye adopted Fergus when the lad was two, but I thought this would be something to make up for it. I started it the day ye announced ye were with bairn again. If anything goes amiss wi’ it let me know and I’ll fix it for ye.”

Claire wrapped a startled Murtagh up in a hug, wayward tears dotted the mans shirt as he hugged her back. “Aye, well yer welcome again, lass.”

Murtagh released Claire then turned back to where his newest family member slept. He delicately placed the bear off to the side of the girl's slumbering head and watched in awe as she stretched brushing the animal with her small fist. Murtagh was in awe as he saw the slumbering bairn clutch the arm of the bear tight and he would have sworn a small smile curved in sleep like his godson’s did all those years ago.


	5. Little Orphan boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous Asked: For your Modern Au, I love that you have Fergus in there as a small boy. How did they come to adopt him? In the books he was 10 and you have him as 7 in the second post.

“Jamie!” Claire yelled down the hallway. “Hurry up we have to be—“

“We have to be at Jared’s in fifteen minutes, aye I know! I canna find my…ah ha! Alright let’s go!” Claire shook her head as a smile crossed her face. _My silly, endearing husband. It’s hard to believe we’ve been married for two weeks! August 10th feels like yesterday._ She thought to herself, in disbelief that they were actually married.

Double checking for keys, cell phones, and the umbrella Claire and Jamie made their way out of the lavish apartment Jared had bequeathed them as a wedding present. Jamie had found it a kind gesture while Claire was aghast and in complete disbelief. How many times were they now expected—better yet obligated— to visit Paris now that they had an apartment?

A muffled wail caused Claire to pause and lay a hand on her husband’s arm. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what, Sassenach?”

“That… wailing? It sounds like a baby.” Claire turned and looked up at Jamie eyes desperately seeking for any answers possible, or confirmation she wasn’t just hearing things. She had always longed for a child, especially after being knocked down by the tall handsome Scot she now called hers. Could her mind be imposing a train of thought of what she wants to happen next instead of actually having heard a child crying?

Jamie shook his head in an apologetic was and guided Claire towards the door. As they approached the wailing became louder; Claire sprinted to the door wrenching it open.

There on the stoop of the door was a bundle of heavily soaked red blankets and two pale chubby arms flailing about in anguish.

Without a second thought Claire scooped up the child and pulled them close to her chest. She began to rock back and forth humming soothing tones as Jamie stared down at the bundle in her arms in disbelief.

“Jamie…” Claire needn't say more, Jamie understood.

“Aye, get back inside with the bairn, mo nighean donn. I’ll phone Jared, he’ll understand.”

Ushering Claire back inside the door and to their bedroom Jamie heard Claire muttering gibberish, which meant it was medical speak, to herself. Jamie watched as she held the bairn in different positions, moving limbs, checking different areas of the tiny body, then saw the tension ease out of her.

“He’s fine. Cold, most likely hungry, but doesn’t appear to be showing any other signs of distress. We need to get fresh clothes and formula for him, now!” Jamie jumped, as did the bairn which let out another wailing squawk at Claire’s raised tone.

“Aye, we’ll get him all he needs, dinna worry, mo nighean donn, I’ll see to it he has all he needs.”

Jamie excused himself to make an apologetic phone call to his uncle, then to find the nearest store that had supplies for the wee lad.

Claire had the child stripped of the sopping blanket and wrapped up in one of her Fraser tartan blanket scarves.

“There, now you’ll be nice and warm in this until we can get you some proper clothes little one. I do wish I knew where your mother or father are and why someone would leave you on our doorstep.”

The boy’s big baby-blue eyes stared up at her in the unfocused way newborn’s eyes did. She smiled endearingly down at him. “You’re such a handsome one. I hope we find whomever might be missing you…Although, a part of me wishes that we never find them so Jamie and I can take you home.”

Jamie stood in the doorway listening to Claire prattle on to the bairn, stories of how they met, what Oxfordshire and the States were like, the impending trip to the Highlands to see family, and a statement that turned Jamie’s heart into a hollowed-out bubble full of happiness, how much she loved the bairn in her arms. His heart swelled with pride for how generous and loving his wife was, but at the same time it broke with the knowledge they’d have to give up this bairn.

“I just spoke with Jared, he’s on his way over. He said he would bring us anything a baby would need.”

“Must be nice having more money than you know what to do with.” Jamie laughed at Claire’s apt assessment of Jared; Rich beyond measure and not a clue where or how to spend it. Frivolous seemed to be his middle name.

“Aye, at least he’s using it to help us. Once the lad has been fed and dressed we’ll need to call the police and child services.”

Claire’s whisky colored eyes looked up at him brimmed with tears. “I don’t want to give him up. I-I-I didn’t realize how much I ached for a child until I held him. Oh, Jamie, we can’t leave him here!”

“Shh, Sassenach, shhh. We’ll figure out a way that’s best for all of us.” Jamie enveloped Claire and the bairn in a hug, kissing the tops of both of their heads.

That’s how Jared found them, a small, new family unit cuddled together seeking comfort.

“Bonjour darlings! I have a few baubles and the like for the lad. I wasna sure what sort of formula you would want, so I bought one of each.”

Claire’s eyes went wide as she saw the bags upon bags taking up all the floorspace of the spacious bedroom. “Thank-you, Jared.”

Jared shrugged a distinctly Scottish shrug, “Think nothing of it my dear. Please, now I need your husband’s help to get the car seat, stroller, and crib from the car…Jamie if you dinna mind?”

“Not at all Uncle, Claire can manage wee Fergus until we return.”

“Fergus is the lad’s name. That’s good, strong Scottish name! The lad will wear that with pride as he grows.”

Jamie chanced a glance back at Claire where she stood, arching one fair brow in a way he knew he would be questioned later. Shrugging back just as his uncle had, Jamie left the room to get the rest of the supplies for the bairn.

 

Jamie, Claire, Jared and wee Fergus were gathered around the dining room table. Fergus happily sucking down a bottle from Claire, his legs kicking in excitement.

“The police will be here soon. Have ye thought what you’re going to tell them?”

“Aye, the truth. What more should I say? We found the puir lad soaking wet on the doorstep, hungry and cold.”

Nodding his head, Jared stroked his mustache thinking about the situation his nephew and new niece were in.

A knock sounded from the door. Claire adjusted Fergus to burp him, watching anxiously as Jamie opened the door allowing the police and child services to enter.

In a flurry of French Jamie explained how they found the bairn, clothed and fed him.

“Madame Fraser?”

Claire looked to the kind looking child services woman. Her curly black hair, rich brown skin, warm chocolate eyes, and slender frame reminded her of her colleague’s wife causing a smile to instantly form.

“Yes?”

“It is my understanding that your husband and yourself wish to foster the child until he can be found a home. Am I correct in this statement?”

“Yes and no, we would like to foster with the intention to adopt. This boy has already stolen our hearts and we want to provide and be the best for him.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, would you tell me what you all do professionally?”

“Jamie is an editor for a newspaper and I am currently an ER surgical nurse, while training to become a surgeon in my own rights.”

“And where, Madame Fraser, do you live?”

“Currently we are in Charlotte, North Carolina, USA. Will that be a problem for us to adopt Fer—the child?” Claire’s grip slightly tightened on Fergus and her eyes went wild seeking out the comfort of her husband who was still detailing the events to the police.

“It could be yes. Do you have any means of staying in Paris or France in general?”

“We do own this apartment, but our jobs are in the states.”

The kind woman smiled sympathetically. She was able to see the want, need, and love Claire had for the child and the protectiveness her husband showed as well. “We will need to be able to observe you from time to time and make sure the boy is well taken care of. If you can stay here it will be easier for us to grant you custody.”

Claire nodded and looked over towards Jamie, “I’ll have to speak with my husband about what we will need to do.”

The woman placed her hand on Claire’s knee, “I may be able to work a way for you to live in America and still foster the boy. If you agree to live here for some months, or weeks when the inspections will take place?”

Claire’s face lit up and she laid her hand over the social worker’s hand. “Thank-you.”

“Here is my card, do call me if you need anything concerning the boy. Tomorrow, I would like to meet you and your husband at the Pédiatre to run more thorough tests on the child. It’s there we can determine his date of birth and assign him a name.”

Claire took the card and thanked the woman yet again.

After the police left Jamie and Claire took a sleeping Fergus to their bedroom and discussed the days events. Claire told him of the social worker Carlotta Claudel.

The next day at the pediatricians’ office, they discovered young Fergus could be either two weeks or two days old. There was no lasting damage from whatever his birth mother had done, but he was underweight—something Claire knew she could take care of. The birth certificate was hard to fill out not knowing the child’s actual date of birth nor his parents’ names. Jamie took a chance and filled out the spaces indicated and waited for a reaction. Written in a formal cursive was:

_Name: Fergus Fraser_   
_D.O.B: 24 August 2016_   
_Father: James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser_   
_Mother: Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser_

 

Carlotta smiled at Jamie and signed her name to the witness line.

“I’ll need to see the three of you again in three months here in Paris, if you can manage it.”

Jamie wrapped an arm around Claire and nodded. “We will be here.”

 

Every three to four months for two years the small Fraser family would pack up and fly to Paris. A month long vacation while being supervised by various child protective service workers. A critique here and there was usually made, one particular man berated Claire and Jamie for allowing a beast “Such as that one!” he had yelled pointing to Frank, near the year old Fergus.

Frank who had taken to Fergus surprisingly well, growled and stood in front of Fergus, ready to protect his friend. The worker was backing away, calling out to anyone who would listen to call animal control, when Fergus grabbed Frank’s tail and giggled as the dog instantly laid down and let Fergus crawl all over his back.

The shock on the man’s face was indescribable as Claire crossed her arms challenging the man, “What kind of beast were you saying? Surely you don’t mean Frank? Those two are inseparable! Frank will lay by Fergus’s crib every night, nap time, or time out and if anything seems remotely out of place he alerts us by barking or coming to get us.”

The man had nervously smiled and instead of what would have been a horrible blemish on their record, was a glowing review of the protectiveness and love the family—including the family pet—had for the small baby.

On August 24, 2018, Carlotta Claudel surprised the Fraser family by flying to Charlotte and delivering the good news. On that day, Fergus Fraser, ward of Paris, France, foster son of James and Claire Fraser became **Fergus James Claudel Brian Fraser**   _son_ of James and Claire Fraser...permanently.


	6. Meeting the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answer to Top+Story's question: What was Ellen wrong about?

Claire gripped Jamie’s hand tighter as they ascended the steps at his childhood home. Her hands were shaking, a cold sweat making her hands clammy, Jamie had never seen her so distraught before. 

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. They’ll love ye, as I love ye.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance.

Claire attempted a smile, her grin more like a grimace and her eyebrows furrowed in distress. Before Jamie could try to reassure her even further the door swung open. 

A tall black haired man, whose facial features Jamie shared from the blue eyes to the wide set grin. 

“Jamie my lad! You’re home!” Brian Fraser pulled his son into a bone crushing hug. Claire held on to Jamie’s hand for dear life while he hugged his father, making the hug awkward and uncomfortable. 

“Da, I’d like you to meet Claire Beauchamp. My fiancée.”

“Oh-ho! Fiancée is it laddie? Weel pleasure to meet ye Claire.”

Claire shook the man’s proffered hand reluctantly, since it caused her to release Jamie’s. “The pleasure is mine. Jamie speaks so fondly of his family, I’m very grateful to meet you.”

If Brian was surprised by the woman’s accent, he did not let on and ushered her inside. “Ach, it’s the pleasure to be meeting you. Jamie hasna brought a woman home to us before.”

Jamie smiled as he watched a wide-eyed Claire being led around the house by his father.

“…and over here is the study. Ellen and Jenny tend to stay out of that room. Says it smells too funny for them.” A nervous giggle came from Claire. Brian smiled and led her to the next room. “This is the formal dining room, we dinna normally use it but Ellen may have us use this for such an occasion as this. Ah! Ellen! Come meet Jamie’s fiancée.”

“Jamie’s what?” 

“Mam!” Jamie remarked hearing the condescending tone his mother had used. “This is Claire Beauchamp. My fiancée, the one I’ve told ye and Da about.”

“Oh…The one you knocked tea all over in America?” Jamie’s ears pinked. 

“Aye.”

“Well, Claire, how do you like Scotland so far? Must be hard being so far from home.” Ellen’s chin raised ever so slightly to give the air of being better than Claire, but only enough that it could be missed. 

“Scotland is beautiful. I was once here on holiday with my Uncle Lamb growing up. It’s a days train or car ride to where I’m from, no where near as bad as where we are in America.”

Ellen’s eyes widened as she heard the soft English lilt of Claire’s voice. 

“English?” Ellen said turning to face her son. “She’s English. You failed to mention that little detail.”

Jamie shrugged and slung an arm around Claire’s shoulders. “It dinna really matter to me. So I dinna think it’d matter to you. She’s from England, aye, which is part of the United Kingdom, which we, as Scots, are a part of.”   
Ellen waved a hand in dismissal, “I still canna believe the vote for a free Scotland didna pass. But I wilna hold that against ye, Claire.”

Claire nodded. “Yes, well, if it’s all the same, I was for the vote. My uncle, who raised me, is an archeologist. I learned many things while with him and I respect each culture, country, race, and person more now because of it.”

“Maybe ye’ll suit my son just fine, though dinna ken how anyone could do it. Perhaps, ye’ll prove me wrong.”

Jamie allowed his mother to pull Claire from his arms and off in the direction of the kitchen. Ellen chatting away while Claire slowly opened up and relaxed with each step they took. 

“Weel son, yer lass has done the impossible it seems.” Brian said as he clapped Jamie on the shoulder. 

“What is that?”

“Made yer Mam realize that there are good women out there that are not her kin, and one is worthy of you. I bet she keeps ye on yer toes, that one!”

Jamie laughed, “Da, ye have no idea how right ye are.”

“Good. Ye need a smart, strong woman to keep things interesting. They’ll love deep and long lasting so I dinna think ye’d be able to get rid of her easily.”

“Why would I do that? I love her more than I love myself, Da. She’s my whole world. If I couldna be with her then I dinna want to be with anyone.”

Brian smiled at his son, who in that moment, reminded him like a younger version of himself. “Good. I can tell she’s the same way. Just be careful for when ye fight, she’ll most likely win.”

“I wouldna doubt it.”


	7. No Sleep Tonight

“Mmm… my favorite,” Jamie murmured as he bit and sucked at Claire’s throat, just hard enough for her nerves to be set on fire, but light enough that he wouldn’t leave a lasting mark.

“Jamie,” Claire repeated over and over in a breathy whisper, which caused Jamie’s body to alight with renewed vigor.

He smiled as kissed his way down to the ‘V’ of her v-neck shirt, nuzzling down beneath the fabric to the silky cups of her bra.

“Off, Jamie. Take the bloody shirt off me!” Claire cried out as Jamie continued his ministrations with his mouth over the fabric as his hands slowly crept under her shirt, savoring the silky skin of her sides. Edging the shirt closer to her head, Jamie reluctantly pulled away and quickly discarded the shirt, starting a pile in the floor.

Jamie’s hands reached behind her and groped at the band in the back. Searching, he felt no hook or clasp only silk and lace.

“The front,” Claire’s breathy voice whispered. “The clasp is in the front.”

Jamie smiled against Claire’s sternum, kissed down to the small bow covered hook and slowly pulled the clasp—

“DA!!!”

William burst into his parent’s bedroom, carrying his favorite green blanket and stuffed elephant. His wildly awry brownish red curls and tear streaked cheeks lead the way to fear filled eyes.

Claire gasped and quickly ducked under the coverlet, reaching out to the floor and groping for her missing shirt.

“What’s wrong, a bhailach?” Jamie crossed the room and gathered his son up into his arms.

The sleepy boy nestled his head into his father’s neck and sniffled. “I had a bad dweam, you and Mama, Fewgus, Faith, and Bwee were all gone! I was all alone! I dinna like it Da! I dinna like it one bit!”

Patting William’s back, Jamie carried him over to the bed and laid him down next to his—now fully clothed—mother.

“Shh, my darling. It was only a bad dream. Your Da and I are right here my love, and no one has left you alone.”

“What about Bwee, Fewgus and Faith?”

“All three should be snug in their beds, sound asleep. As should you, little one. Why did you bring Angus with you?”

William’s little shoulder shrugged, identical to his father’s dismissive Scottish shrug. “I didna want to be alone if ye all werrre gone. I hafta keep a fwiend close.”

Claire looked over her son’s curly head and into her husband’s blue eyes, conveying the mild heartbreak she was experiencing at her son’s distress and at the loss of the intimate moment they had been sharing.

“Ah, that’s verra brave son. I’m sure wee Angus here would have kept ye safe and good company,” Jamie said, kissing the top of William’s head. “How about ye give yer Mam a hug and I’ll take ye back to bed?”

Claire felt William’s tiny hands latch around her neck, then his head shake back and forth quickly. “I dinna want to leave. Please, let me sleep hewe with you.”

Unable to say no to her children no matter what the sacrifice, Claire wrapped her son into her arms and kissed his temple. “Of course you can sleep here. We’ll put you back in your bed after you’re sleeping soundly.”

“Mama!”

“Don’t talk back to yer Mam. Ye ken the rules; ye sleep in yer own bed. We’ll help ye get to sleep, but we’ll tuck ye in to yer own bed with Angus after ye do fall asleep.”

William huffed, and burrowed his head into Claire’s neck—the same spot Jamie had been not five minutes before.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But can I have Fwank or Chawlie in my woom too?”

“Aye, if I can get one of the beasts from yer siblings rooms, ye can have one in yer room with ye.”

The tension in the four year olds body deflated and he melted onto his mother’s chest, falling into a deep in sleep shortly after.

Jamie stroked his son’s back, his heart full of love at seeing his small form with his mother. The memory of his birth was all too painful and vivid; he’d nearly lost both of them that day, had it not been for Joe and —grudgingly— Dr. Raymond Bouton, they both would have died that dreary January morning.

“I love the wee heathen, but he needs to work on his timing.”

Claire laughed, muffling her mouth with the pillow. “Getting blue balls are you?”

“Aye, and ye as a doctor surely know that they arena healthy for a man.” Jamie winked and gently caressed Claire’s arm that protectively surrounded their son.

“Why don’t you take this one back to bed and we’ll see what I can do to alleviate any pain you may be experiencing?” Claire gave Jamie a sly smile and a pointed stare at the appendage in question, alluding to the activities she had in mind.

After carrying the limp form of his slumbering son to bed and dragging a reluctant Charlie from Faith’s room, settling the Cocker Spaniel in bed with William, Jamie rushed back down the hall to his wife. Peeling his shirt off as he walked into the room, he found Claire in nothing but his button up shirt lying peacefully on the bed.

His patience was wearing thin and his balls felt like they were about to fall off from the strain of lack of satisfaction.

“Hmm… Are you going to stand in the doorway all night staring or are you going to join me?” Biting her lip, Claire crooked a finger beckoning him to her.

Before he bounded onto the bed, Jamie found himself without pants and without a care in the world.

Claire gently stroked her husband’s chest, paying close attention to the curly cinnamon hairs springing up between his pectoral muscles. Her fingernail traced the perimeter of the hair, settling on his right nipple and swirling slowly inward until the tip budded out from stimulation. Claire bent forward and licked his nipple, then treated the left to the same amount of attention, before slowly licking, sucking, and biting her way down.

Cupping him in her palm, she slowly caressed, stroked, and squeezed, giving Jamie the most erotic and intimate baws check he had ever experienced. Jamie couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, or even see straight as Claire doctored his ills. Blue balls woes forgotten, now all that consumed his being was the fire of desire.

Lust, love, want—he could not decipher one from the other, only that Claire was the source of these desires. He pulled her up and kissed her soundly, allowing their tongues to dance and bodies to melt into one another. He flipped Claire on to her back and ripped the buttons from his shirt, greedy eyes taking in her soft, rounder form.

“Fair is fair,” he whispered and then treated her breasts and nipples to a similar treatment that she had shown him. One hand circled, the other creeped steadily lower. Her body arched off the bed, and her surprised moan caused him to smile and increase his efforts. She was always responsive, always ready, and always his.

Claire grabbed Jamie’s hips and positioned him where she wanted him. Never afraid to take control, but willing to let him lead. They began their rhythm—a slow, torturous tempo that caused both of them to quickly lose their breath.

“Daddy! What are you doing to Mama?” Bree’s voice shrieked. Claire squealed and Jamie fumbled for the coverlet to shield his naked arse from his youngest daughter.

“Ach, mo chridhe, why are you out of bed?” Jamie groaned into Claire’s shoulder just loud enough for Bree to hear.

“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted you to read me a story,” Bree said, her voice getting steadily closer.

“Darling, give your Da and I a little while and we’ll meet you in your room for a story. Pick out a book will you? Or find the chapter we left off on in Harry Potter, ok?”

“Alright, Mama!” They heard their daughter’s excited footsteps run for the door then stop. “Da, dinna hurt Mama again, ok?” Bree’s voice, too stern for her six year old self, caused Claire to giggle and Jamie to stifle his own.

“Aye, mo chridhe, I promise no to hurt yer Mama again.”

That must have satisfied her, for the excited patter of Bree running to her room was all that could be heard. Jamie slumped onto his wife, deflated.

“Next time, lock the door.” Claire huffed, not wanting to lose the connection, but the desire slowly ebbing away from their daughter’s intrusion.

“Aye, I’ll try to remember that. Next time, try not to be so tempting, mo nighean donn, and I might not forget.”

Claire laughed and kissed him with all the love and desire they were denied that evening.

“Later?” Jamie asked pulling away from Claire’s mouth.

“If you can stay awake that long after reading God knows how many chapters of Harry Potter for Bree.”

Jamie buried his head in Claire’s shoulder, not ready to move or leave her warmth.

“Go,” she said and kissed him again. “I’ll go grab a glass of water for Bree and be in with you shortly.”

“Mo nighean donn,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss. “Dinna keep us waiting too long.”

“I won’t.” She said kissing him once more and sliding out from under him with a sad sigh.

_Later, if only later were now._ Jamie thought to himself as he watched Claire’s naked form slip into the bathroom.


	8. Carnivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @gotham-ruaidh asked: Your “Mo Chridhe” story speaks to my heart. What comes next for our favorite couple? Do they take all the kids (and Frank) to Paris for a visit, once Fergus gets older? Can’t wait to see how the story unfolds!

Summer in Paris was not any better from summer in Charlotte; both cities overrun with tourists and tinged with mirages from the balmy heat. Murtagh looked around the carnival and questioned his decision to bring Fergus to this insanity.

The next day was Fergus’s birthday and when Murtagh saw the lad’s bored expression as he drummed his feet off the apartment’s kitchen bar, he felt compelled to do something to make the lad smile.

For the past hour Fergus had bounced from tent to tent, game to game—eyes bright and a smile permanently affixed to his face. Despite the crowds and the steamy August heat, Murtagh didn’t regret a single moment of the day. The happiness Fergus experienced with his help made Murtagh’s heart swell with love.

"Do ye think he'll like it?" Fergus asked, holding up the small grey elephant.

"Aye, lad I think yer brother will like it verra much. Ye ken he's no even one so he's more likely to stuff it straight into his mouth if he's anything like yer Da." Murtagh said clapping a hand to the boy's shoulder.

"I just want him to have a friend to protect him," Fergus said, staring down at the elephant. "Like Rupert my giraffe and Bree's bear Fizz. You gave both of us those and I want Willie to have that. I know Faith has several but...do ye think I can try to win her an animal too?”

Murtagh smiled down at the thoughtful boy he proudly called family. "Aye, we can see if there's an animal ye think she may like.”

"I hope they'll like them. How did ye know we'd like the ones ye gave us?”

"Tell the truth, I didna ken what ye'd like. If ye remember right the first wee beastie I tried to gift to yer sister yer dog ripped in half.”

Fergus laughed and shook his head in memory. "You mean Jack the headless monkey? Yeah, Frank hates him. He still gets it out and gives it a good shake every so often.”

Murtagh smiled behind his grizzly beard. "That'd be the verra one. I guessed that a bear would suit yer sister, especially since yer Da had one similar and he loved that thing. Took it everywh-- why are ye laughing lad?”

Laughing so hard his face had turns red and he was bent over at the waist, Fergus could barely catch his breath. In between guffaws Fergus said, “Da...hada...purple...bear!!"

"Ach, ye ken that's no what I meant!”

Despite his attempts to settle the boy, Murtagh only succeeded in making him laugh harder.

"Alright ye clot heid, quit yer guffawing and let's go find yer sister a toy.”

Dragging a still laughing Fergus, Murtagh couldn't help but smile, happy to be the reason of such infectious joy.

“Uncle Murtagh!” Fergus exclaimed, pointing at a booth on the right. Murtagh felt his hand being yanked over to the brightly colored awning and plywood painted stand. On it in yellow painted flowing cursive read _Mélanger La Perruque_.

“Toss the wig, eh? Weel, lad do ye think ye can get the wig on the courtier?” Murtagh winked and nudged the lad’s arm. Fergus’s puffed his chest up and his face changed to a look of stern determination.

“ _Bonjour, mes amis! Tentez votre chance et tester votre chance au Coutier la perruque de M. Pompadour toss!_ ” A tall, willowy young man theatrically proclaimed; gesturing from himself and the white curly wig cover frisbees, to the neon silk clad, bald dolls behind him.

“ _Oui, oui_!” Fergus giggled. Murtagh scratched his beard slowly deciphering the enthusiastic Frenchman’s prattle.

“Aye…I suppose,” Murtagh grunted. “How much, lad?”

“Ahh! _L’Anglaise_! Welcome _Monsieur_ and _petit Monsieur_!” The man greeted, throwing both arms out to his sides. “ _Tres_ euro, for _cinq_ wigs each.” A bright purple and gold glitter covered hand held up five fingers in explanation.

Murtagh nodded and handed over three euros. Fergus jumped up and down excitedly beside him. As soon as the eccentric man reached his hand out with the wigs, Fergus ripped them from the man’s hands and started to wiggle his bum and shake his shoulders in an excited, calculating dance.

Laughing, Murtagh clapped Fergus on the shoulder. “Easy lad, wait for the man to say go!”

“Hmmph,” Fergus grunted, shrugging Murtagh’s hand off him acting just like Jamie did as a child.

“ _Prêt ... ensemble ... toss!_ ” In blur of purple and gold glitter the attendant ran out of the way as Fergus started tossing his wig-frisbees with enthusiasm.

“I win! Uncle Murtagh did ye see it? Did ye see that?” Fergus yelled looking at the wig-frisbee that perfectly sat atop the gold and purple doll in the very back of the line-up.

“Aye, lad! That was a bonnie toss,” Murtagh handed the five remaining wigs—that he had never tossed, too enthralled watching the boy’s face light up to toss.

“Ye don’t want to throw them?” Fergus asked, looking up in question at his uncle. Murtagh nodded, and turned towards the dolls eager to see what the lad did next.

Fergus’s arms overflowed with plush animals as they walked back to the Fraser apartment. An elephant for wee William, a tiger for Faith, a horse for Bree, and a lion he had yet to say who would receive it.

“Mam! Da!” Fergus yelled as they turned the corner to see Jamie and Claire in the yard outside the apartment.

“Fewgus!” Bree squealed and darted over to her brother, wrapping herself around his middle.

“Hi Bree! Can ye go get Faith for me?” Bright red curls bounced under the plush animals, then were flying by as she went after her sister.

“Faith! Fewgus needs youuu!” Bree yelled as she went.

Murtagh guided Fergus to the yard.

Claire had a cooing William in her arms with Jamie protectively standing next to them.

“What have ye got there, mo chridhe?” Jamie asked his bouncing son.

“Presents!”

“But it’s your birthday tomorrow, darling.” Claire said, her face softening as Fergus answered her with a Scottish shrug.

“Does it matter? Can’t I give gifts without it being a special time?” His brown eyes wide as he searched his mother’s for answers.

“Of course it doesn’t matter, darling,” Claire walked over to Fergus and kissed his brow. “You are the most thoughtful young man.”

Faith and Bree chose that moment to skid to a halt in front of their mother and brother, giggling and curls tangling together.

“This,” Fergus said as he fumbled through the mounds of fluff in his arms pulling out the tiger, “is Hal the tiger and he’s for you, Faith.”

Faith’s eyes widened and she squeezed the plush animal to her chest mumbling a faint thank you into the fuzz of the tiger.

“Ye’re welcome! Bree, this is Buttercup and she’s your new horsey.” Bree squealed, launching herself at her brother, barreling him over in the process.

“Mam, Da, this is Angus the Elephant and he’s fer Willie.” Jamie took the plush animal from Fergus and ruffled his hair, while Claire’s eyes watered.

“I see ye’ve left one animal for yerself, lad.” Murtagh said, smiling down at the boy.

Fergus shook his head. “No, this one is for ye, Uncle Murtagh. Ye took me to the carnival and played all those games with me.”

“Weel, I’m honored lad. What’s the name of this one?”

Fergus shrugged yet again, “I dinna ken. What would you call him?”

“Oh, that’s a mighty important decision, Fergus. I want you to name him.” Murtagh smiled.

“Umm, how about…Ned?”

“Ned, Ned is a good name for the lion.” Murtagh laughed and clutched the lion to his heart.


	9. Captain Hook and Tinker Bell

“How does that feel?” Jamie asked Fergus as the boy twisted his arm from side-to-side, surveying the new shiny hook of his right hand. 

“It’s weird, Da,” Fergus replied, “Can I take it off now?”

Jamie shook his head. “No, sorry lad. Yer Mam is getting your sister ready and then we need to be out the door. Either leave the hook on or leave it here. We’re no’ going to carry it for ye.”

Fergus though for a moment then nodded his head. “I guess if I get tired of holding the hook I could just put it in my bag?” 

He phrased it more as a question than a statement. 

“I dinna see why you could no’ do that. Just dinna lose it. Ye ken how yer Mam gets when we misplace things.”

Fergus’s eyes went wide as he nodded. “Aye, Da.”

“Good. Now, let’s go see if our wee Tinker Bell and fair Mother Wendy are ready to trick or treat, aye?”

“Aye!” Fergus squealed with a massive grin.

 

Tapping the door with his hook, Fergus stood back and fidgeted, waiting eagerly. A plump man dressed in an ill-fitting American Football jersey and lounge pants opened the door, an extra-large bright orange bowl secured under one arm.

“Trick or treat!” Fergus squealed as Faith attempted her own “Twick or Tweet” in an echo of her brother. 

“Captain Hook!” The man said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “It seems you’ve captured Tinker Bell after all!”

Fergus nodded, his brows furrowed. “It wasna easy, sir, but I managed to convince her I was the proper family for her.”

“Fewgus!” Faith giggled, a small hand clamped over her mouth. “Yous not Captain Hook! It’s onwy pwetend fow Hawoween!”

Claire and Jamie stood behind their children, smiles straining with suppressed laughter. The man at the door bellowed out a laugh, throwing his head back. 

Wiping a tear from his eye, the man reached behind the door and handed Faith a chocolate bar that read ‘King Size Hershey Milk Chocolate.’ The little girl’s eyes went wide. The man went on to grab a second chocolate bar and hand it to Fergus. 

“Happy Halloween, Frasers!” Rupert waved from the door.

Jamie laughed. “Happy Halloween Rupert.” Jamie leaned towards Rupert as Claire ushered the children down to the next door. “Thank ye for humoring them. I ken ye dinna care for children.”

“What are ye on about Jamie? I love children, and yours are too fun to rile up! That little girl of yours,” he shook his head, “She’s going to be a handful in a few years.”

“A few years?” Shaking his head, Jamie looked up with a wry smile. “She’s a handful now, just like her Mam.”

Rupert grinned and pulled a present out from behind the door, handing it to Jamie.

“What’s this?”

Rupert shrugged. “No much. Just a wee thing for Claire and the bairn…and you as well I suppose.”

“Thank ye,” Jamie said, clapping his cousin on the shoulder. “Tell your wife thank ye from the two of us as well. I’ll have Claire open it after the bairns are asleep.”

Rupert waved and smiled just as more costume-clad children ran up to his doorstep. Jamie could hear his cousin’s booming voice as he made his way down the street to where Claire, Fergus, and Faith were standing. 

He bounded up the steps to the house and he noticed that Claire’s posture was stiff and she held both Fergus and Faith in front of her as a shield. 

“No,” he heard her say and watched as the ringlets of the ‘Wendy’ wig bounced from side to side. 

“Claire—” The man dressed, aptly as the Devil, said as he reached for Claire’s arm. 

She jerked her arm to the side, pulling the children away from the man and towards the stairs. “Do not call me that. It’s Doctor Fraser to you, Doctor Bouton.”

Jamie didn’t have to see Claire’s face to know it was set in a glare. The iciness of her voice had him springing into action.

“A ghraidh! There ye are. Are the bairns ready to hit the next house? I hear they have gummy eyeballs and wax vampire fangs.” 

Faith and Fergus gasped in excitement, smiles spreading across their faces. 

“Let’s go Da!” Fergus said, pulling himself from his mother’s grip. 

“Yes, wet’s go, Da!” Faith echoed nodding, but unable to free herself from Claire’s grip. She huffed. “Mam, we has to go now! Did ye no heaw Da? They gots vampiwe fangs next doow! I wanna be a vampiwe!” 

“Of course, darling. Let’s go.” Claire smiled down at her daughter, patted her bottom and grabbed her small hand. 

“Clai—Doctor Fraser, wait!”

“I believe my wife and children are finished at your door. There seem to be plenty of children ye have yet to satisfy with candy. How about ye focus on those that want something from ye and no those who canna stand the sight of ye?” Jamie growled. 

Doctor Bouton pulled himself up straight, his nearly black eyes set in a glare. “Who are you to be giving me orders?” Scoffing he waved his arm, gesturing to Jamie. “And why would I ever take orders from a child, Peter Pan? That is who you’re supposed to be, right? The boy who never grew up? Seems you finally found your perfect costume, except it isn’t a costume is it?”

Jamie had not felt embarrassed or angry about the outfit that had been chosen for him to wear this evening, and he still didn’t now. He enjoyed the smiles and giggles it brought to his children. It was one time a year when dress up was something his little family found joy and excitement in. 

“At least I’m no evil. If the suit fits, aye?” Cocking an eyebrow, Jamie turned and left pulling Claire flush to his side just as Doctor Bouton began yelling profanities and names at Jamie. 

“Oooo! Dat man said a bad wowd, Mam! Da why did he caw ye a bawbaween bastaw—”  
Claire closed a hand over Faith’s mouth to prevent her from finishing the word. 

“We dinna say that word, little one,” Jamie said sternly to his daughter. 

She solemnly nodded, “But why did he caw you dat, Da?”

Jamie picked up his daughter and bopped her on the nose. “I dinna ken, mo chridhe, but he did and I’ll no let it bother me. I dinna want to hear you say that word again, aye?”

“Okay, Da.” Faith snuggled into Jamie’s embrace.

“Where’s the house with the gummy eyeballs and vampire teeth at, Da?” Fergus said tugging on his father’s costume. 

“Just up ahead. See the house with the purple lights lining the walkway?”

Fergus nodded. 

“That’s where ye’ll find them.”

“Come on Tink!” Fergus yelled enthusiastically and took off at a sprint for the door. 

Faith wiggled out of her Da’s grasp and took off after her brother, little legs throwing glitter everywhere from her costume and her bag of candy trailing the ground. “Wait fow me Fewgus!”


	10. Wedding Dresses and Busted Lips

“Do ye take Frank to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Giggles ensued from the bride-to-be, and a huff of irritation from the would-be-officiary. 

“Yer supposed to say ‘I Do,’ Bree!” Faith said, placing her hands on her hips.

Bree clamped her lips together, trying to stifle her giggles and nodded. 

“I do!” She squealed, laughing even harder as her sister nodded with the most serious face. 

“Good, then Frank you can kiss the bride!” 

Bree’s laughter knocked her to the ground. The white “wedding dress” made of sheets fell from her shoulders as she rolled on the ground. Frank, seeing one of his humans rolling on the ground took that moment to lay down and roll on his back, tongue lolling out the side. 

“Ugh! That’s not what yer supposed to do!” Faith complained, throwing her journal to the ground.

“But Faith, Fwank’s a dog, how am I supposed to mawy a dog?”

“It’s PRETEND!” Faith emphasized, getting angry at her sister’s lack of imagination. 

“Then why don’t yous mawy him and I’ll be the pwiest?”

Faith considered her sister’s proposal, and after a few minutes nodded in agreement. 

“Fine, but I want a different dress. No two brides should wear the same dress!”

Bree shrugged her shoulder in a way that looked just like her Da. “Okay. Let’s go find one then!”

Scrambling to her feet, Bree took off towards the house Frank and Faith tight on her heels. 

“Wait Bree! I know where one is!” Faith called after her sister. 

The two girls streaked through the house causing Charlie to bark.

“Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” They heard their mother call from somewhere in the house.

Both giggled, “We aw getting a dwess fow Faith’s mawage to Fwank!”

Claire stifled her own giggles. “Be careful then and stop running in the house!”

“Okay Mama!” Both girls called and continued to run up the stairs. 

“In here,” Faith pointed to their parent’s bedroom. 

“Whys we going in Mama and Da’s woom?” Bree whisper yelled to her sister.

“Shhh! We dinna want Mama to know we are in here because I want to use her dress!” Faith whispered back.

The two girls snuck into the closet and saw the rows of shoes and clothes of both their parents, all neat and where they were meant to be. They began to rummage around, looking for the beautiful white and silver lace dress that their Mama wore to be married in. 

“Faith! Ovew heea!” Bree called out, pointing to a deep purple garment bag. The white and silver lace visible through a clear section that went the length of the bag. 

Faith’s eyes went wide, and a grin to match sprang to her face as she drew closer. 

“It’s perfect!” She whispered even softer. “Bree stand over here I need to use you to reach the hanger.”

Bree nodded, not fully understanding what she was needed for. Faith stood behind her little sister, placed her hands on her shoulders and said, “Get ready.” Then jumped up, attempting to wrap her legs around Bree’s shoulders and neck. Bree gave out a cry of shock and stumbled, Faith screamed in panic, grabbed the first thing she could to try and stabilize themselves which happened to be the purple garment bag as they crashed to the floor--the entire shelf going down with them. 

Both Faith and Brianna began to cry in shock, and pain. Claire heard the crash coming from upstairs, followed by their cries and went sprinting to the source. What she found were her two girls with bloody lips and scrapes, surrounded by her clothes, and gaping holes in the wall where the shelving unit crashed down.

“Faith! Brianna!” She said scooping them up into her arms. “Darlings, what happened in here? What were you trying to do? Let me see your cuts!” 

Bree buried her face in her mother’s neck and cried hard. Faith on the other hand stuck out her chin and elbow to show where she was hurt. One handed Claire looked at her daughter. She pulled her lip back and saw where one of her bottom teeth had been knocked loose--a baby tooth, thank goodness-- and the mild scrape on her arm from a metal clothes hanger. 

“Come downstairs and we’ll get you both cleaned up. Bree, sweetheart, can you show me where you’re hurting the most?”

Bree shook her head, pushing her face deeper into Claire’s neck. 

Claire patted her back, “Alright sweetheart, but I’m going to have to look at you when we get downstairs.”

Bree shook her head again, but her crying had started to calm down to small hiccuping sobs.

Downstairs, Claire grabbed her medical kit and had Faith sit on the bench by the table to be looked at, while she had Brianna still clinging to her side. 

“Looks like you’re going to lose that tooth, Faith. Do you want me to pull it or do you want to?” Faith’s eyes went wide with tears as she violently jerked her head from side to side.

“No! Don’t pull it, I don’t want to lose it! I need my teeth Mama!” 

Claire smiled softly, “It has to come out or it’s going to hurt worse when you go to chew. You remember how you lost your front two teeth on the top?” 

Faith nodded.

“What happened after that?”

“My tooth came back,” She said a little bit happier.

“Yes it did, and so will this one!” Claire comforted.

“Okay Mama, then go ahead and pull it.” 

Claire watched as Faith’s knuckles went white against the bench from gripping so hard. She quickly and easily pulled the tooth and watched as Faith relaxed. 

“That didn’t hurt much!” Faith said happily.

“Good, now can you explain to me why you and your sister were in my closet?”

Just as Faith went to explain Jamie walked into the room. His eyes went wide with fear when he saw Bree still cuddled to her mother, blood dripping down Claire’s shoulder, Faith likewise with smears of blood on her. 

“What happened?” He said in a panic.

“I was just about to find that out for myself.” Claire said, turning to Jamie. “Can you grab Bree for me so I can help Faith easier?”

Jamie nodded and pulled a reluctant Bree from Claire. When Bree saw it was her Da, she clung to him just as tight as she had her Mama. 

Faith sighed. “Bree and I were playing wedding. Bree kept laughing and wouldn’t say the words right to marry Frank, so she said I could be the bride.”

Claire nodded and motioned for her to go on, while gently dabbing at the cut on Faith’s elbow. 

“I wanted a different dress, because no two brides can have the same dress!” She said matter of factly. “So we went to your room, because I wanted your dress.”

The last part was said as a mumble. “Go on,” Jamie prodded. 

“Bree found it and I tried to use her shoulders to climb high enough to reach the hanger. She started to fall, and I grabbed onto something and fell with her. Then everything fell to the ground and that’s when Mama found us. I’m sorry.” Faith said with tears in her eyes. “I just wanted to look pretty like Mama for my wedding.”

Claire and Jamie exchanged a look and sighed. “A leannan ye know yer not supposed to be in your Mam and I’s bedroom.”

Faith looked down and nodded, ashamed. 

“You’re lucky you weren’t hurt worse! Why would you use your sister as step stool?”

Faith shrugged one shoulder, not looking at either of her parents. 

“No sweets, TV, or books for a week.”

“But Mama!”

“No buts! Now I want you to go up to your room and change out of these dirty clothes.”

Faith huffed and stomped to the stairs. 

Jamie sighed, “What about this one?” He said bouncing Bree on his hip. 

“First I’m going to clean her up, then she too will have a similar punishment.”

Claire reached out and took Bree from Jamie, “Please go look at the closet and see if we’re able to easily fix the walls without a contractor. We really don’t need to be spending the money on a professional if you and Murtagh can fix it.”

Jamie leaned over and and kissed Claire’s temple. “Aye, I’ll go look now.”

“Thank you.” She sighed, then focused on her youngest daughter’s injuries.


	11. Tea Party

“Dinna say a word lad,” Murtagh grunted when he noticed Jamie and Claire standing in the doorway with twin looks of shock and laughter. 

Jamie pressed his lips together to keep from laughing as he shook his head.

“Da!”

“Mama!”

Two little voices squealed at once. 

“We’s having a tea party with Unca Murtagh and Adso! Look!” Bree ran to her mother’s side and shoved the grey cat into her face. Adso was wearing what looked like doll clothes, with blush and ribbons adorning his long fur. He gave out a strangled mew that seemed to say “save me.”

“Och, looks like your cheetie didna get off quite as easy as you, Murtagh,” Jamie laughed, pulling the cat from his daughter’s grasp.

Murtagh glared at his godson. “What do ye mean get off easy? I’m sat here my knees to my armpits, covered in a lace apron, hair bobbles in my beard, and makeup on my face while the two of ye are out all evening!” 

Claire and Jamie both smiled at Murtagh. His words of annoyance did not mask the underlying tone of love and enjoyment he’s had babysitting the Fraser lasses. 

“But Unca Muwtagh, ye had to look popiate fow the tea pawty! The Ween was thewe!” Bree said indignantly, her hands balled into fists at her waist. 

Murtagh’s gazed softened as a faux scowl crinkled his face. “Oh the Queen was there, aye? I didna see her maker her appearance.”

Bree huffed and rolled her eyes. “You has to use youw imaginwation!” She turned to her mother. “Mama, why do boys no have imaginwation?”

Claire choked on a laugh before crouching down to her daughter’s height. “Sweetheart, boys have very good imagination, but as they get older some of them forget how to use it.”

Bree’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped in horror. “Did you fowget how to use youw imaginwation, Unca Muwtagh?” 

“Och, I believe I have lass.”

Bree ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck and whisper yelled into his ear. “I’m sowwy Unca Muwtagh. I thought you knew how to use youw imaginwation.”

Murtagh hugged the lass tighter to him. “Can you help me remember how?”

Bree nodded her head vigorously. “Aye! I’ll help you wemembew. That means we have to have lots of play time.”

Her serious tone made each of the adults smile. “Oh aye, lass. We’ll have to have playtime everyday while your siblings are at school and your parents at work. How does that sound?”

“Yay!” She squealed into his ear hugging him tighter. 

Jamie threw his arm around Claire’s shoulder while watching his daughter animatedly talk with his godfather. 

“I told ye they’d be good together. He’ll have her so worn out at the end of the day, she’ll sleep all night long.”

Claire poked his side. “You just don’t want to have to keep reading bedtime stories.”

Jamie laughed. “Ye caught me. I’d rather have a different kind of bedtime story.” He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked as his hand cupped the swell of Claire’s eight month pregnant belly. 

“Insatiable.”

“Always.”

“I do feel sorry for Murtagh though,” Claire sighed, threading her fingers with Jamie’s over their unborn son. 

“Why is that, mo nighean donn?”

“Bree is going to wear him out. He’ll probably fall over in exhaustion before the first week is up.”

Jamie snorted. “Aye, ye may be right about that. We should probably head home, let the old man build up his strength for the next few days before we leave Bree with him long term.”

“Come on girls! Gather your bags and give your Uncle a hug. It’s time to go home.”

“Awww!” groaned Bree and Faith. 

“Mama do we have to leave?” Faith asked, widening her eyes with a pout.

“Yes darling, we do,” Claire said, tapping her eldest daughter on the nose. “We have to pick up your brother from Thomas’s house on the way.”

Faith huffed, dragging her feet to the couch to slowly fill her backpack with the toys and dolls she had brought with her.

Bree still sat on Murtagh’s lap, her arms defiantly crossed across her chest. 

“Come on, mo nighean ruiadh,” Jamie urged. “Ye heard yer Mam, time to go.”

Bree shook her head. “No. I’m not going.”

“Aye, ye are lass.” Murtagh said. “If ye dinna leave now, mayhap yer Mam and Da may no’ let you come back next week for playtime.”

“No! I want to come back! I want to play tea pawty and teach you how to use youw imaginwation again!”

“Then ye need to get yer stuffed toys and go home. Ye can plan what kind of games we will play and what all I might need to learn to use my imagination again,” he suggested with a shrug. 

Sadly Bree nodded her head. “Okay, but I still want to play mowe. You’ll play any game I come up with?”

“Oh, aye! Cross my heart,” Murtagh said with a smile. 

With a curt nod Bree joined her sister at the couch, gathering their belongings. 

“Thank you, Murtagh.” Claire said.

“Och, think nothing of it Claire. I’m looking forward to spending time with her. It’ll be like when I used to watch this one here,” he said, shaking Jamie’s shoulder. 

Jamie smiled. “Aye, and if yer half as good with a lassie as ye were with me, then she’s in for the best time of her life. She’ll never want to leave Uncle Murtagh’s.”

Murtagh beamed with pride, the tell tale pink of a blush crept along his cheeks and ears as he grunted his thanks. 

Murtagh helped the girls into the car saying their good nights. As they pulled away, he saw Bree’s ruddy head stick out the window as she waved and yelled, “Night Unca Muwtagh! Love You!”


	12. The Ex, A Dragon and A Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OL<3ER asked:   
> What if Claire did run into one of her exes with jamie (with the babes or not...maybe even some overprotective dog frank --that still makes me laugh!) what would happen? Would jamie get jealous or would it be peaceful.. up to you!

Jamie pulled Claire down the sidewalk at a run, while keeping a soaked newspaper overtop of her head. The rain relentlessly hammered all around, the trees swayed with the force of the storm. Seeing a faint glow of lights ahead, Claire redirected Jamie to the establishment. 

The smell of tea, coffee and old books surrounded them. Jamie taking a deep breath and letting out a contented sigh at the comforting smell. 

“Where have ye brought us, Sassenach?” he asked, looking around the cramped space. Worn leather arm chairs and sun faded plush velvet chairs were strategically placed around windows and bookshelves. 

Claire shrugged while running her fingers through the drenched curls. 

“Storms really ragin’ innit?” a deep Appalachian accented voice said from directly behind Claire, causing her to jump and let out a gasp. Jamie whirled around to face the stranger. 

The old man had a permanent hunch, and his beard would rival that of Brianna’s favorite Harry Potter character, Dumbledore. 

“M’name’s Art Altizer, and this here is my shop. Feel free to come ‘round to the back to dry off by the fire.” In his accent it sounded like ‘far’. He gestured to follow as he weaved around furniture and books with surprising ease. “I have a small selection of drinks and cakes if you’re interested.” 

Jamie quirked a brow at Claire, and she smiled in response. They followed Art to the back where a teen leaned against the countertop, her tattooed hands tapping on her cell phone. 

“Dee here can make the fanciest coffees you’ve ever seen, with little designs and everything floating in the cup!” the old man complimented his worker. 

With a hug and an eye roll Dee corrected Art, “It’s latte foam art Grandda, not rocket science.” 

Art smiled and let out a chuckle. “Ah, so you’ve said before. Her lattes are almost too beautiful to drink,” he said, turning back to Jamie and Claire. 

“We’ll take two, but make one decaf, please,” Claire said to Art who beamed and clapped. 

“Very good! Dee, m’dear…”

“Already ahead of you Gramps!” 

Jamie guided Claire to a loveseat that sat directly in front of a roaring fire. He sighed and peeled off his jacket. 

“Weatherman said this is the storm off the latest hurricane. Should last few more hours. Y’all are welcome to stay as long as you like. The books are free to read and borrow. I have a sign out sheet just over there.” Art pointed a crooked finger at an owl carved podium. 

“Thank you. You’ve been so kind to us,” Claire said, taking the latte from Dee. 

A small bell dinged and Art’s eyes lit up again as he scurried towards the front to welcome another customer. 

“Gramps loves having people here. Not too many people stop by anymore, not since the Barnes & Noble opened up down the street,” Dee commented, pulling at a loose purple strand of hair. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. This place looks incredible!” Jamie said in earnest. Dee gave a half-hearted smile and shrugged. 

“He spends all his time here since my Granny Deeana passed last year. He opened this place for her because she loved sweets and a good book at all times,” she said with an imitation of her grandmother and a smile. “I was named after her and spent all of my childhood in here. I fell in love with the place too. I wish more customers would come.” 

“We saw your light, that’s how we knew to come here. All along the street, the windows were dark and uninviting, but this…” Claire waved her hand. “This place showed warmth and led us here.” 

Dee snorted. “Yeah, well, three more buildings down and you’d have found a Starbucks and the Barnes & Noble. That’s where tourists want to go.”

Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by her grandfather ushering in another disheveled person.

“...oh yes sir! We do have scones. Butterscotch, blueberry, chocolate, and vanilla flavored ones all in this here case. Which would you like and I’ll have Dee warm it up for you?” 

The man chuckled. “Surprise me.” 

Ice formed in the pit of Claire’s stomach at the voice, a voice she hoped didn’t belong to who she thought it could be. When the stranger turned around, his blond hair and light blue eyes confirmed Claire’s dread. Her ex had found her. 

“Cl-Claire?” John stuttered and Jamie stiffened at Claire’s side. 

“Hello John,” she said tersely. 

“I can’t believe it! Claire Beauchamp as I live and breathe!” he exclaimed, pulling her up into a hug. Claire patted his back lightly. “What are you doing stateside? Last I heard you were in South Africa on some wild goose chase of a dig with that hairbrained uncle of yours.” 

Claire’s lips tightened and she nodded. “Yes, well, time does move on and that was nearly fifteen years ago. I was in South Africa looking for a magical talisman my Uncle believed to be hidden near the cape, but that was on my summer holiday from uni.” Claire groped behind her for Jamie’s hand, when he laced his fingers with hers, she pulled him to her side. “This is my husband, James Fraser.” 

“Hu-husband?” The smaller man’s adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes shifted nervously, taking in the large form of Jamie Fraser. “Ni-nice to meet you. Claire and I go way back.” John stuck out a hand that Jamie took, squeezing harder than necessary.

“Aye, weel Claire hasna ever mentioned ye.” His Scots burr thickening with each word, overpowering the nasal british accent of John’s, who nervously laughed. 

“Ah, you see, we ah… didn’t end things on good terms.” 

Jamie arched an eyebrow as John nervously played with the hair at the back of his head. 

“No, you see, ah… well. I mean that… what happened was…” 

“He cheated on me with the local paper boy then tried to force me into marriage because his mother wanted him to marry a woman, all while maintaining his relationship with the underaged boy. Mind you, this happened when I was eighteen and had no inclination to be wed,” Claire stated with little emotion. “I had just been accepted to Oxford and several schools here in the US. I wanted to be a doctor, not a nobleman’s beard.” 

Jamie tried hard not to laugh, a quick pinch to his side stopped it from exploding out of him. 

“Aye, weel then, John. Did ye and yer paperboy lover continue after Claire rejected ye?” 

John jerked his head. “No. Percy decided that he’d rather take his chances with another man than me.” 

“Then who was the lucky lad that married ye?” Jamie nodded at the golden band on John’s hand. 

John shoved his hand into his coat pocket. “Her name is Isobel, and we have a son together. My mother got what she always wanted. A grandchild and for me to marry a woman.” 

Claire arched an eyebrow at this. “Well congratulations, John. I had no idea you were willing to give a woman company again.” 

A feminine hurmph came from behind Claire. 

“Isobel!” John said nervously, walking around to get his wife and the toddler at her side. 

“Izzy, this is Claire Fraser and her husband James. Claire, this is my wife Isobel and my son, George.” 

“Hello,” Isobel sneered. 

“Hello,” Claire said sweetly then turned to the child. “And hello to you, young man. How old are you? I believe my son may be about your age.” 

“Five,” George said, sticking out his hand showing all of his fingers. 

“Oh my! You are a big boy.” George nodded and gave her a toothy smile. 

“My daddy says that I’m gonna be even bigger than he is!”

Claire smiled at the boy and nodded. “I’m sure you will be.” 

“Do not speak to my son like that,” Isobel said hatefully. 

“I’m sorry, in what way?” Claire asked confused, eyebrows drawing in. 

“Like a condescending bitch! I know exactly who you are, Claire Beauchamp! You’re the bitch who ruined my life!” 

Taken aback, Claire looked from Isobel to John, who was frowning at the ground. “I don’t--”

“Don’t give me that! It was your fault I had to marry a queer! Your fault I had to give him a sorry excuse of a--” She cleared her throat. “It’s your fault! If you would have married him when told, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Do you have anything to say now?” she demanded, her face turning puce. 

“Your hat is crooked,” Claire said calmly. 

George had begun to cry and jerk his hand away from his mother, who was squeezing it to the point of pain. John walked over to her, but she threw the child’s hand away and stormed out of the shop and back out into the rain. 

“John, I am so sorry,” Claire said, tears in her eyes. John shook his head picking up his son trying to soothe his pain and ease the crying. 

“Let Claire take a look at him, aye? We’ll keep an eye on him if ye want to run after her,” Jamie offered, patting John on the shoulder. 

He nodded reluctantly. “Georgy?”

The boy’s red and tear tracked face dug deeper into his father’s neck. “Georgy, I’m going to let Mrs. Fraser hold you and look at your hand.” 

George shook his head and a muffled ‘no’ could be heard. 

“Yes, dear one. Mrs. Fraser is a doctor and knows how to help hurt people.”

A small, ‘okay’ was murmured and John handed over his son to Claire. 

“I’ll be back shortly. This isn’t the first time Izzy has spoken out like this. I,” he sighed. “I don’t think she’s happy with our new move to the states, or my other preference.” 

They both nodded at John as he took off after his irate wife. Claire didn’t even have to ask when Dee and Art brought her cloths and ice in a plastic bag. She checked George’s hand, and didn’t think anything was broken. He cried and hiccupped himself to sleep on her chest while cradling the ice wrapped hand between them. 

Jamie smoothed back the boys light brown hair. “At first I was jealous and angry at yer ex, but now all I feel is pity. The lad shouldna have to experience what’s to come.”

“He’ll need a friend,” Claire confirmed. 

“Aye, maybe a whole houseful of friends, the lad and yer John.” Jamie kissed Claire’s temple and rubbed George’s back. 

“I think the Fraser clan can help there. So long as you don’t mind the past…?” Claire asked nervously. 

“It’s yer past, Sassenach. I ken I wish I was yer only man, but I canna fault ye for lookin around when I wasna there.” He kissed her again and she leaned into his embrace. 

“One day, I’d like to have a less exciting trip to a coffee and tea shop,” Claire mumbled and Jamie laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what the breed of dog Frank looks like here is a link to a black curly coated Lab:  
> http://www.yourpurebredpuppy.com/dogbreeds/photos-CD/curlycoatedretrievers2.jpg


End file.
